Hello! This is a new story i'm working on. I'm not sure how i'm doing with the OOC-ness but i've never written Romano or Spain before. Thanks for giving this story a chance!
Lovino glanced down at the empty basket he held. He was pushing through the streets of a small village in Italy, clothes hanging off of his small frame. Nobody gave him a second glance due to the fact that they were all dressed the same way. Spying a familiar wooden stand, Lovino sped up his pace. The stand was laid out with different foods, with woman watching a young boy count pebbles beside her.
"Lovino!" the blonde woman waved, "how are you?" She spoke with an accent mixed in with her Italian.
"Hello, Emma. Just getting tomatoes for Feliciano again," he replied as he placed the basket down and moved some of the red fruit from the crate to his own, "the normal errands."
"Is he making pasta? It was delicious; what you brought us last time."
"It was only a thank-you. I do favour these tomatoes, you know." He paused and waved his hand, ignoring Bella's praise. He continued to work and only when his basket was half full, he reached into a pocket and produced three dull gold coins and placed them in the woman's palm.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Emma. And you, Carlos."
Bella came around the stall and pulled Lovino in a quick embrace, and then he kneeled on the ground. "Bye, Carlos." He waved at the small boy no older than three who was clutching tightly at the skirt of Bella's clothes. The child took some steps forward on his chubby legs and waved back, laughing when Lovino ruffled his hair. "I'll see you both soon."
The flock of people were still steadily moving on Lovino's way home. The aroma of salt and sea was still lingering, drifting in from the ocean at the edge of town. He was heading away from it though, to a dirt path leading to his home. A few houses lined the path, looking small and pathetic. Lovino himself lived with his younger brother and grandfather in one of the worse residences, shingles missing and paint peeling away horribly. He swung the door open and the smell of herbs wafted to him.
"Feliciano! I've gotten the tomatoes." He called in.
"Thank you, Fratello. Could you bring them in here?" his brother called back to him from the kitchen. Lovino removed his shoes, balancing the basket on his hip, and made his way across the room. When he got to the separate room, he dropped the basket on a wooden counter beside him and peered at the other.
"What is it, Lovi?" Feliciano wondered, cutting vegetables as he spoke.
"I used my own money to buy these."
"Ah, didn't Nonno lend you some coins?"
Lovino leaned against the wall without saying anything, but Feliciano understood.
"He keeps it in the fabric under the jar." The younger pointed with the knife he was using to the shelf that had spices in little containers. Lovino dragged a chair over and stood on his so he was face-to-wall and could see all the dried herbs. He ran his fingers along the different glass jars.
"Which one?"
"Second to the back, left." Lovino grabbed said jar and opened it, pulling the fabric stuffed inside apart. There were indeed a small handful of coins; to which he picked out three. Making sure everything looked untouched, he jumped down and pulled the chair back to its place.
"Lovi… could you possibly run back to town to get some bread?" Feliciano looked down, refusing to make eye contact with Lovino.
"Feli," he spoke with his teeth clenched, "I was just there."
Now the other turned to look at him. "Please. I'm sorry… But I have to finish dinner. You can't have pasta without bread, right?" His lips turned to a small sad smile, eyes travelling to behind Lovino.
"Do what he says, Lovino,"
Taking a deep breath, Lovino turned around. His grandfather's eyes where narrowed and he was holding an empty bottle of wine.
"Fine, I'll go; be back before dark." He dodged around the older man while they watched him leave. He didn't slam the door like he normally did, but he definitely felt like it. All that bastard does is drink, he ranted to himself, walking back down the path. And I'm always running errands for Feli. I never get a break.
By the time Lovino had reached the bakery, he felt a little better. He stood outside of the store looking at the breads that had been laid out. Running a hand through his hair, he almost had pulled the door fully open when a gunshot rang out. Whipping around, he confirmed that it wasn't his imagination. People where scattering all over to get to a safe spot. Lovino himself was getting jostled around; something that didn't sit with him well. He grabbed the nearest persons arm, a middle-aged woman.
"What's going on?" he demanded fearfully. The women shook her arm, but answered.
"Pirates! They're here, let go of me!" She shook her arm forcefully so Lovino had to let go and she scurried off without looking back. Cover… I need cover! Lovino turned his attention back to the bakery's door. He reached for the handle to pull it open; and to his dismay it had been locked. Rattling the handle, he cursed. I need to get home, then. Stay calm. He couldn't tell which person was a pirate, but from the gunshots sounding and screams it suggested that they were likely everywhere. His legs shuffled over a bit and elbowed people out of the way. His eye caught on an overturned wagon and he almost tripped getting to it. He tucked his legs in the small area. Not comfortable, but too frightened to care, he rested his head on the side of the wood and watched the panicked feet of the villagers run by. The only time I've heard of pirates here were from Nanno's stories. Why the hell are they here? The bastards are probably from the French seas. Lovino's pounding heart started to subdue. It'll be over soon, and then I will be able to go home. His thoughts were interrupted when a black gloved curled around the opening of the flipped wagon. The setting sun hit his eyes as the unknown person had thrown over his only cover. He looked up from where he was sitting now in plain sight, into the red eyes of a foreign man. Lovino used his legs to crawl away, but the other just brought his boot down on his ankle. The Italian yelped in pain, hands clawing at the earth.
"You're not going anywhere." The stranger said in a thick accent that Lovino couldn't understand.
"What… what?" He spoke desperately, but what he understood was that this man was defiantly a pirate. His eyes followed the pirates hand as it travelled to his belt and brought out a gun. The man said something else Lovino didn't understand, but Lovino had already closed his eyes tight; bracing the feeling of a bullet through his chest. Pain did come, but it was radiating over his head. The Italian tried to open his eyes but with fail. Welcoming the darkness, he went limp.